Worries
by unanymousdeen
Summary: Malik get's worried when Altaïr has to leave for his big missions. He has every right to. One-shot. Altaïr/Malik. AltMal.


**Just a cute little one-shot I found burried somewhere in the depths on my jump drive. I don't know why I didn't post this earlier.**

* * *

Malik leaned over, placing his only hand over Altaïr's and gently pressing his lips onto the Assassin's. Altaïr did not hesitate to respond – reciprocating the chaste action almost instantly.

Malik curled his fingers around Altaïr's, molding their hands in an awkward gesture of holding. Nonetheless, he still had captured the Assassin with his lips, enjoying the fluttering sensations in his stomach. It felt reassuring to know his lover was still alive and here – wandering the streets of Jerusalem and making it a better place for everyone. But, Malik still felt that selfish desire to close off the world around him and have Altaïr all to himself. He really wished moments like this wouldn't have to end. Sooner or later, Altaïr would have to leave for another dangerous mission to kill. Malik had every right to worry. He never knew when Altaïr would come back, or if at all, so their kisses pre-objective are always ones that Malik would be content with Altaïr taking to his grave.

"I love you." He muttered after they broke apart. His breath was hot against the Assassin's mouth.

"I will come back, I promise."

"But what if you don't?"

Altaïr's grip on his hand grew tighter, and he brought his forehead to Malik's. "Do not think such things. I promise that I will always return to you, and that is how it shall be."

Malik sighed and closed his eyes, caressing Altaïr's palm. "I'll be waiting anxiously for your return."

The Assassin brought a hand to the back of Malik's neck, marking the spot in-between in nose and cheek with his lips. "I love you, too." He stroked the place of Malik's neck where his thumb rested. "Always."

It was hard watching him go – seeing that white cloak vanish behind the doorframe with a blink of an eye. Who knew if he was coming back? Malik sure didn't, but his racketing mind would not set with ease, so the ex-Assassin pulled out a book – one that studies the art and history of Jerusalem. He had read this book over three-hundred-million times, but it always calmed his conscience.

"Perhaps I need a new story – maybe even several fresh novels." He stated to himself, opening the dark cover to reveal the yellowing pages of the aging book. He would read until Altaïr returned, preferably safe.

He turned to the first page, and a small white slip caught his eye. With eyebrows furrowed, Malik carefully picked up and examined the note. The first feature that he noticed was the calligraphy – the way each symbol was written is familiar, and Malik couldn't help but chuckle.

_Malik,  
I cannot seem to understand why you read this novel. It's horrendously boring._

I got you something new – might want to check your not-so-secret cabinet, O distinct one.

- Altaïr

Instinctively, the robed man reached for the drawer, pulling at the wooden handle to reveal a storage compartment, once hidden away behind a secret mobile wall of wood. It contained all of his assassin weapons (the small ones that is) to keep himself safe from any invaders. Lying under all these knives sat a red-velvet covered novel, its frame draping neatly in golden lining.

Malik raised his eyebrows, entranced by the eloquence. It looked rather pricy. Perhaps it was, but Altaïr was Altaïr – he would buy something expensive for those he loved.

He opened to the first page, no note there to greet him, and read the title out loud, "Sparta and Lakonia: A Regional History."

_Sparta? _He thought. _Why would Altaïr get me a book on Sparta?_

By the time the master assassin had returned to the bureau, Malik had finished half of the book, his face almost touching the pages.

"Looks like someone enjoyed their little present."

Malik jumped, looking up towards the source of the voice. "Dammit, Altaïr, you nearly frightened my soul out of me."

Altaïr chuckled, walking over to the desk and retrieving the feather from his belt. "The deed is done – Halzif is dead"

Malik grinned, watching the blood-stained feather before picking it up with his remaining five fingers.

"I'm continuously pleased with your success...novice – and the book that you gave me. The information is astonishing! The fighting styles of Spartans were nothing like the common styles of today. The way the trained their people...they start at the very young age, almost like the Creed!"

"Malik..."

"Their armor is incredulous for their era, and it's fascinating to see how it's evolved into today's."

"...Malik."

"I have to admit, you definitely pleased me with this novel."

Altaïr gripped the book from its top and roughly yanked it down onto the desk. "Could you stop talking?"

Malik leaned back, confused. "Did I...do something wrong?"

"I'm feeling a little lonely out here. That book is getting all your attention."

Malik smirked, inclining himself against the bookshelf behind him. "Is someone jealous of an inanimate object?"

Altaïr grunted, sharply turning his back towards his partner. "I'll write the responding letter to Al Mualim myself, then."

"Novice."

"Bastard."

"Getting bold now, are we?"

"Do not test me."

"You must be really angry at this book. Then again, you do get really moody."

Malik was really pushing Altaïr's boundaries at this point. The Assassin was about ready to leave when he felt a warm arm wrap around his waist. _That sly_ _fool_.

"You're an idiot, Altaïr."

"You drive me insane."

"_Novice_."

Altaïr opened his mouth to protest, and decided that whatever come-back he was going to use would truly offend Malik, and the man would probably ignore him for a long time. The Assassin wondered if whether or not Malik thought about him during his departure. "Did you mind me any thoughts?"

Malik rested his cheek on the back of Altaïr's shoulder, sighing. "To be completely honest with you, I did not. But, every time I see that book, I see you. It'll help me get through the times in which my eyes cannot see you. The book was incredibly interesting – one of my favorite gifts from my favorite person." Malik finished.

"One of your favorites? Can you show me the others?" Altaïr asked smugly, giving in.

Malik grinned, turning the Assassin around to face him fully, holding his grip on his waist. "Gladly."


End file.
